


Bardic Methods of Conflict Resolution

by BrighteyedJill



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Double Penetration, Established Relationship, Jaskier applying a clue-stick, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Pining, Polyamory, Self-Esteem Issues, Threesome - M/M/M, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:08:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28435167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrighteyedJill/pseuds/BrighteyedJill
Summary: Jaskier has seen the way Eskel looks at Geralt. Eskel doesn’t want to get in the way of the happiness Geralt deserves. And Geralt is certain Eskel no longer wants him. There must be a way to ensure everyone gets what they want, and Jaskier feels confident he can find it.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 337
Collections: BIKM Secret Santa Event 2020





	Bardic Methods of Conflict Resolution

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fushicho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fushicho/gifts).



> Happy new year, Fushicho! Many thanks for hobbitdragon and TricksyPixie for helping me whip this into shape!

“You...what?” Eskel asked, blinking slowly at the bard beaming in his doorway.

“It’s a surprise, you see,” Jaskier said. “Sort of a present. I can promise you an excellent time.”

“That’s not….” Words tumbled themselves over in Eskel’s mind, trying to form into something coherent. But the part of the brain that strung sentences together was currently being drowned out by the screaming want that had burst free of the confines of the dark corner where Eskel usually locked it away. That want, swiftly morphing into hope, had latched onto Jaskier’s question, and wouldn’t let go. 

But Eskel had to have been mistaken about what Jaskier actually wanted. He was running far, far ahead of himself. “You said… you want me in your bed?”

“Was I being too circumspect? Forgive me. I’m inviting you for sex,” Jaskier said brightly. 

Eskel should have known he’d be like this. He’d shown in his first several weeks at Kaer Morhen that he had no shame when it came to showing his affection for Geralt. Or perhaps he just didn’t realize how good witcher hearing was. 

“Specifically, I’m inviting you to fuck Geralt, as I’ve heard you’re excellent at it,” Jaskier said. “But if you didn’t mind me being involved, I’d like to be.”

“He…” The questions in Eskel’s mind piled up, multiplying like ghouls in a graveyard into an overwhelming mob. “He told you that we…”

“Your feelings were fairly obvious from the very first time I saw you together,” Jaskier said with a shrug. “Then I just badgered the details about the two of you out of Geralt. You’re still interested in him, yes?”

“Yes,” escaped Eskel’s mouth before he could stop it, honest and reflexive. If _interested_ meant that he thought about Geralt every day of his life, and that seeing him or getting word from him filled Eskel up like nothing else... That when Eskel brought himself off or even when he was with someone else in bed, Eskel’s thoughts were on Geralt... And that seeing Geralt at Jaskier’s side in Kaer Morhen this winter had hurt Eskel worse than any wound he’d endured this year... Then yes, Eskel was still interested.

Even if he’d denied it to Geralt, for some reason Eskel couldn’t avoid telling the truth to Jaskier, standing here and asking him so directly. “Yes.”

“Good! Well, that’s all settled.” Jaskier clapped a hand to Eskel’s shoulder, and it sat there burning like a spark, sending fire running through his veins. “So, you know how he is--he’ll enjoy whatever you’d like to do. And in any case, you have plenty of experience learning what gets him off. I’ll get him warmed up for you. If you prefer, I can leave while you--”

“No,” Eskel said faintly. Geralt would want Jaskier there. And if they were alone, Eskel didn’t trust himself not to say more than he meant to: admit how wrong he’d been in telling Geralt he should commit himself elsewhere, that a pairing of two witchers could never give Geralt what he needed. As a witcher, Eskel was incapable of love, and Geralt deserved someone who could love him properly. Eskel had been sure, when he’d said it all those years ago, that Geralt would be better for Eskel’s breaking off what had been between them. 

When there’d been so few of the Wolves left after the pogrom, Eskel had known that Geralt would feel it his responsibility to continue to give Eskel his affections since there weren’t other Wolves left to give Eskel companionship. Geralt’s sense of fairness and loyalty was so predictable. And if Geralt wasn’t going to be chained by a connection that would bring obligation without the kind of love Geralt deserved, Eskel had to be the one to set him free. 

And Eskel had been _right_. Geralt was eminently loveable, and once freed, he had found all sorts of human connections out there in the world: real, meaningful connections of the kind Eskel couldn’t provide. 

But seeing Geralt devote himself to Jaskier had been far more painful than Eskel had anticipated. He was happy for Geralt to be loved, of course he was, but there was something else, too. Whatever vestigial emotion Eskel was experiencing had dug its claws into him deeply this winter. And now it was driving him to this foolishness, testing his resolve in the cruelest way. The reasons he’d distanced himself from Geralt still held true. He should tell Jaskier no, take it back. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Excellent! I look forward to it.” Jaskier gave his arm a firm squeeze. 

Strong fingers--lutist’s fingers, those, Eskel noted. Geralt probably enjoyed them. Melitele’s mercy, this was a terrible idea. 

“Geralt’s room, after supper tonight. We’ll be ready for you.” Jaskier flashed his brilliant smile and strode off down the corridor with a spring in his step.

A rising sense of doom paralyzed Eskel as he pushed the door closed and leaned his forehead against it. This was going to hurt.  
\--

Jaskier stood next to the bed, smiling to himself as he watched Geralt twist and writhe as Eskel buried his face between Geralt’s spread legs. Geralt twisted his wrists in their silk bonds but made no effort to break them. His eyes were fixed on Eskel, though they occasionally drifted to Jaskier, as if seeking permission. Jaskier considered the full erection he was stroking adequate evidence of his endorsement.

Jaskier’s plan was going well. He’d worried for a moment when, with his mouth on Geralt’s cock and his hand partway inside Geralt, Eskel had knocked on the door. Geralt could smell Eskel, or recognize him by his heartbeat, or both, perhaps, and Jaskier saw the moment Geralt realized who had arrived when his eyes went wide and he stared pleadingly up at Jaskier. 

When Jaskier dragged his mouth free to call, “Come in,” Geralt had nearly stopped breathing. 

And when Eskel stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, took in the scene with interest but no surprise, and said, “Hello, Wolf,” Geralt had given a startled grunt, a noise like he’d been punched in the gut.

“I invited him for you!” Jaskier said, and Geralt let out a high, strangled sound.

Eskel looked between the two of them, then fixed his eyes on Geralt. He was bound so prettily to the bed, legs raised, spread, and bound in their turn, cock hard and leaking against his belly, and his ass slick and stretched around Jaskier’s fingers. “If you don’t want me to stay--”

“No,” Geralt gasped, and, “Please,” which was more coherence than he usually managed in bed.

Eskel looked at Jaskier and, when he received a welcoming smile, nodded shakily and came forward. 

And as Jaskier had watched them together, moving with the familiarity of a pair of partnered dancers, he saw pieces of Geralt he hadn’t known existed. Eskel knew where and how to touch Geralt to get exactly the reaction he wanted. He wrung sounds out of Geralt that Jaskier had never heard, and when he finally slid that perfect, monstrously-large cock inside, Geralt fucked back against him as hard as the restraints allowed. 

Jaskier had known there’d been something between the two of them, but seeing this illuminated just how much he _hadn’t_ known. Eskel and Geralt looked at each other with a burning hunger, tinged with a sorrow that Jaskier had seen Geralt wear many times. It was the look of a man who was certain he could never have what he wanted. 

Jaskier had made it his goal to erase that expression from Geralt’s repertoire.

“Jaskier,” Eskel said sharply. “Your mouth.”

Jaskier looked up, surprised but not at all displeased to be included, and followed Eskel’s nod to Geralt’s flushed cock. He hurried forward to take it between his lips, and it was the work of a moment to find the right rhythm to complement Eskel’s thrusts. With their combined efforts, Geralt lasted only a moment longer. 

With one strong hand, Eskel pulled Jaskier back by his neck so that Geralt’s issue splashed across his own chest and up to his chin, a stunningly lovely sight. Geralt gasped and shuddered as Eskel fucked him through it, until Eskel pulled out and spilled himself over Geralt’s chest too, adding to the mess. 

Jaskier watched in delight, mouth agape, continuing to stroke himself. But then all at once Eskel was on his knees before Jaskier, his lips sealing tightly over the head of Jaskier’s cock, and _sweet Melitele_ , Jaskier hadn’t thought to ask about this for his own sake, but he should have, oh he should have, because Eskel’s mouth was exquisite. Next time he wanted Eskel’s cock, too. 

Jaskier shouted as he peaked, feeling Eskel swallowing around him, pleasure singing through him. And when Jaskier’s knees buckled, Eskel leapt up to catch him.

“I’m all right,” Jaskier said, slumping against Eskel’s chest and waiting for the feeling to return to his legs. Much more than alright, really, but words seemed to have deserted him. He regained his balance and pressed a kiss to the scarred side of Eskel’s face in thanks for the rescue.

Geralt made a strangled noise. They both turned to look at him as he stared hungrily. 

“All right, be patient,” Eskel laughed, reaching for the ropes. Then he froze and looked back at Jaskier.

Jaskier waved a hand. He’d have to work on that, convincing Eskel that he could have whatever rights Geralt granted him; Jaskier did not expect he’d have any objections to many, many repetitions of this evening. “Please, go ahead.”

Eskel freed Geralt, Jaskier cleaned him up, and they all settled into the bed with their nearly-asleep White Wolf. As they did, Jaskier carefully maneuvered Eskel into the middle so he couldn’t run off. Jaskier intended to have words with him before another day passed.  
\--

Geralt groaned and dropped his head back against Eskel’s shoulder as slick fingers worked their way into him alongside Eskel’s cock. Eskel hummed so that it resonated through Geralt’s body, shifted beneath him, and tightened his hold across Geralt’s chest. Eskel had known for decades how much Geralt enjoyed being restrained in bed, but in the past few weeks Geralt had suffered the exquisite torture of Eskel explaining for Jaskier’s benefit--and often demonstrating as well--exactly what Geralt enjoyed. Now that Jaskier had offered to let Eskel become a regular fixture in their bed and their lives, Geralt was discovering the danger of Eskel and Jaskier uniting their efforts: together they were entirely too efficient at taking him apart. 

Geralt whined as Jaskier worked his fingers further in and licked at Geralt’s cock. He’d come once already tonight, with Jaskier riding him, but that seemed like hours ago. Since then, they’d both been touching him and touching him, plunging him into a fog of sensation, and he needed more.

“Hush,” Eskel whispered. “Know you want to take both of us.”

“I won’t last,” Geralt gasped. Jaskier’s clever tongue circled the head of his cock, and his hips jerked up as if to illustrate his point. 

“Yes, you will.” Eskel’s certainty gave the statement the weight of a proclamation. “You can. Don’t you want to be a good boy for Jaskier?”

Geralt shuddered and pressed his head back against Eskel, clenching his fists at his sides. _Of course_ he wanted to be good. For both of them. Eskel smoothed a hand down Geralt’s chest, encouragement and reward at once.

Jaskier lifted his head and pulled back, petting a hand over Geralt’s spread thighs and mercifully avoiding Geralt’s cock while he worked in an additional finger alongside the other one. “You still want us both inside you? We can do something else instead.”

“No, please,” Geralt rasped. “This.” They hadn’t tried this yet, but the idea had been dogging Geralt for weeks, ever since Eskel made his first appearance in their bed. Since then, Eskel and Jaskier had played with Geralt in many ways, sometimes watching one another with Geralt, or making Geralt watch them, or both taking Geralt together, one of them touching or kissing or using their mouth on Geralt while the other fucked him. And twice now they’d put Geralt on his knees between them, one of them fucking his mouth and the other his ass, sharing commentary on how Geralt looked and felt as they spurred him to climax after climax. But when he had suggested this, Geralt hadn’t realized what it would be like to feel both of them together.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get what you want.” Jaskier leaned down to press a kiss to Geralt’s thigh as he eased his fingers further in.

“He’s ready,” Eskel said. “He can take you. Can’t you, Wolf?” 

Geralt wasn’t certain of anything except that he needed more, but he trusted Eskel to know his body as well as he did himself. He nodded and said, “Please.” Jaskier’s brilliant smile in response promised good things to come.

Geralt breathed deeply and kept himself relaxed as Jaskier replaced his fingers with his cock. They’d been thorough in stretching him, but it still felt impossible at first, his body clenching around the intrusion of something even more than the already extremely full sensation of Eskel inside him. His adrenaline spiked as if he’d come upon a monster unawares. It didn’t _hurt_ , not in any way that meant anything to a witcher, but it was so much more intense than he’d imagined, so all consuming of his attention that he forgot where he was, perhaps even who he was. What drew him away from that too-bright focus was Eskel’s touch. Eskel pressed his face into Geralt’s hair, murmuring soothing words and stroking his sides as Jaskier pushed in and in and in, making himself a place inside Geralt. 

Geralt could take them both. Of course he could. Once it was happening, once the sensation of it wasn’t drawing Geralt down like a whirlpool, he shivered at the delicious stretch, at being so completely filled in a way he hadn’t known he’d been missing.

His eyes drifted shut and he let himself be held, let himself take what was on offer. Both of them inside him, with him, the two people dearest to him in the world, and they both wanted Geralt enough to give him this, give him both of them at once.

“Wolf?” Eskel grabbed hold of Geralt’s medallion and gave it a gentle tug. “You with us?”

Geralt nodded shakily. His heart was too full for words. His body, too, for that matter. Jaskier had pushed all the way in, his cock spearing Geralt open alongside Eskel’s. Their skin was hot where they pressed against him, surrounding him, claiming him. He wanted to tell them how good it felt, but all he could manage was to groan wordlessly.

“I know, I know,” Eskel said. “Move, Jaskier.”

Jaskier didn’t argue. He pulled out a little and thrust back in, wringing startled noises from all three of them. Eskel gripped Geralt tight, holding him in place and keeping him from falling apart as Jaskier drove them all towards the edge together. Geralt held onto his control tooth and nail--he wouldn’t come until they told him to. He’d told Eskel he’d be good for them, and he would.

Jaskier went first, being only human. He spilled inside Geralt with a heavy sigh. When he pulled out, his spend dripped from Geralt’s stretched hole and down over Eskel’s cock, making him squirm against Geralt.

“Beautiful,” Jaskier sighed, as he gathered up some of the come with his fingers and pushed it back inside. Geralt couldn’t see what Jaskier did next, but from Eskel’s groan, he imagined Jaskier was cupping Eskel’s balls, rolling them in his palm just the way Eskel like: those full, heavy balls, taut and ready to flood Geralt with seed.

“Please,” Geralt gasped. He felt the pleasure building at his center, and he knew this time no amount of willpower would hold his climax back for long.

Needing no further encouragement, Eskel fucked up into him. He couldn’t move far in this position, with Geralt spread over him, but nevertheless it took only a few strokes until Eskel went rigid under Geralt and gasped as he pumped his own seed into Geralt to mingle with Jaskier’s. The smell of it was intoxicating, a marker of both of their claims on Geralt.

“Fuck,” Jaskier said emphatically. “You two are astonishing. Shall we let him finish?”

“He’s been good,” Eskel said, a bit breathlessly.

“Hold him for me, then?”

Eskel shifted to hold Geralt in place, his softening cock slipping from Geralt’s thoroughly loosened hole. Jaskier slid his fingers inside Geralt at the same time he wrapped a hand around Geralt’s cock. Geralt had been holding back so long that it wasn’t really a choice to let himself finish. With Eskel whispering encouragement and squeezing Geralt in his arms, and Jaskier’s hands working him expertly, Geralt couldn’t have stopped his climax if he’d wanted to. He shouted as he came over the crest of it, protected by his lovers so he could simply let go and allow it to tear through him, a wave that left him boneless and wrung out in its wake. 

Geralt wasn’t aware of much after that. Just a warm, damp cloth running between his legs and over his belly and a blanket drawn up over him. 

When he opened his eyes a bit later, he blinked in the warm firelight. The bed was empty. He lifted his head to see Eskel and Jaskier sitting together on the rug in front of the hearth, passing a bottle of wine back and forth. 

“You needn’t look at him like he’s going to disappear,” Jaskier was saying.

“One of these days you’re going to come to your senses. Or he will,” Eskel muttered into the bottle.

Geralt’s stomach clenched, his drowsiness giving way to a rush of anxiety. A few weeks ago Eskel had told them both, during the conversation that had ended up in Eskel’s agreement to extend this experiment beyond a one-time affair and beyond just the physical, why exactly he’d pushed Geralt away before. In the moment, Geralt had been struck speechless with horror at the revelation. So Jaskier had been the one to make the scathing and thorough argument that Eskel’s reasoning was wyvern shit and would not be accepted as an excuse to abandon them. And when Jaskier argued, Geralt knew, he rarely lost. So rather than sit up and protest, Geralt waited.

“I just gotta make the most of what you’re giving me until that happens,” Eskel continued, raising the bottle to his lips.

Jaskier snatched the bottle out of Eskel’s hand, though of course he was only human and couldn’t have taken it from a witcher if Eskel hadn’t allowed it. 

“No wine for you if it’s going to make you maudlin! It’s a privilege to have you with us in every way you’ll allow. I’ll have to start telling you twice a day that this isn’t some horrible mistake and that you aren’t pulling anything over on me or Geralt. ”

Geralt recognized the fierceness in Jaskier’s expression, and knew that wasn’t an idle threat.

“Ugh, stop.” Eskel threw a hand over his eyes and flopped back onto the rug. Geralt could have told him there was no way to escape the bard’s arguments once he’d been riled up.

Sure enough, Jaskier was on top of Eskel in a second, wine set aside in favor of draping himself over Eskel’s chest. “You and Geralt love each other! I don’t care what either of you thinks about the absence or presence of feelings. As a bard, I am an expert on these matters,” he declared, poking Eskel in the shoulder.

Geralt felt certain his bemused expression echoed Eskel’s. _Love_ was not something witchers were capable of. He’d been told that again and again. But Geralt couldn’t deny that the feelings described in Jaskier’s romantic ballads did resonate in him in a way that seemed stronger than mere reflex or a stirring of a vestigial part of him that had long since been mutated away. As Jaskier said, witchers weren’t exactly experts on matters of the heart.

“And for some reason I, a mere interloper, have been granted permission to become an accessory to that love,” Jaskier went on. “For that, I’m extremely grateful.”

“Stop.” Eskel grabbed Jaskier’s wrist. “You’re not that. Not a--not an accessory. Without you… We wouldn’t, Jaskier. It wouldn’t be like this.”

Geralt wanted to deny it, to say that he’d have noticed Eskel’s misery, but Eskel knew him too well. Eskel was too good at shoving his feelings down where no one would see them. When Geralt thought of going on like that, Eskel watching him and Jaskier all the winter long, tearing himself up inside and hiding the wounds, fear seized Geralt, and he had to tell himself that it wouldn’t happen now. Eskel and Geralt had been too set in their ways to see the problem, but Jaskier wasn’t. He’d saved them both, with that unbelievably brazen way of going after what he wanted, and the talent Geralt had been basking in for years now that Eskel so deserved: the ability to convince a witcher, through sheer force of personality, that he could be more than he thought he was.

“I’ll stop being a maudlin idiot if you will.” Jaskier leaned down to press a kiss to Eskel’s lips, and they lost themselves in that for long enough that Geralt’s eyes closed. He opened them again when he heard Jaskier’s whisper. “Now, what shall we do when he wakes up?”

“Not spent for the night?” Eskel asked.

“I may be, but I know the two of you can go at least one more round, and I never tire of watching. So, what shall it be?”

“I have a few ideas.”

Geralt let his eyes sink shut again as the soft comfort of contentment rose up over him. He sent up a silent thanks to the stars--not Destiny, because _they’d_ chosen this and made it happen on their own--that he could have something he hadn’t even known to wish for. And he sank into sleep knowing that Jaskier and Eskel would both be there in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come find me [on tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/brighteyedjill) where I flail about witchers' feelings about reblog cute art of soft Eskel.


End file.
